What If?
by SherlockedGirl
Summary: What if Sherlock and Irene hadn't been interrupted during their teasing little conversation? ASiB. Yeah, my second fan-fic. Rated T-M for adult themes.


"Have you ever had anyone?" Irene's voice was breathy as she

stared at the detective sitting across from her. Sherlock frowned at

her blankly, frustrated at his inability to understand the question.

"Sorry?" He replied in his deep, velvet voice. He stared at her.

"And when I say "had", I'm being indelicate," Irene informed him

with a cheeky smile hidden in her voice. Sherlock lowered his

voice and his eyes were dark.

"I don't understand."

"Well, I'll be delicate, then," Irene rose from her chair and closed

the distance between her and the detective. She knelt in front of

him, putting her left hand on his right hand and curling her fingers

delicately around it. She rubbed her thumb over his smooth skin.

"Let's have dinner," She suggested as she looked up at him. His

eyes widened a fraction, but he let no emotion slip through his collected mask and answered immediately.

"Why?"

"Might be hungry," Irene answered teasingly, the double meaning in her words very obvious.

"I'm not," Sherlock replied, staring into Irene's dark eyes.

"Good," Irene smiled slightly and continued circling her thumb over his pale skin.

"Why...would I want to have dinner...if I wasn't hungry?" Sherlock asked huskily as Irene's pupils dilated. She leant closer to him, her gaze fixated on his full lips.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes..." Irene said softly as Sherlock's fingers gently stroked the underside of her wrist.

"If it was the end of the world...if this was the very last night...

.

.

.

Would you have dinner with me?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of Irene's skin.

Irene looked at him with hunger in her eyes. In a sudden burst of courage, she leant forward and pressed her smooth lips against the detective's.

Sherlock's eyes opened wide and he tried to pull away from Irene, his mind in a frenzy.

Irene, determined not to let him go, grabbed his collar and pulled his face into hers, kissing him fiercely.

Sherlock's mind was racing. Nobody had ever kissed him like this. He'd never understood the appeal.

But...now, in this closed position with The Woman...his body was betraying him and he couldn't make sense of the thoughts and sensations.

His vast mind struggled for an appropriate response and came up empty. Parts of his mind longed to take advantage of the situation in different ways.

He wanted so badly to succumb to the raging emotions, but the small part of his mind that he still controlled wanted to test these feelings.

Sherlock argued internally with himself, then finally made a decision.

'Why can't I do both?'

His fingers tangled in Irene's loose, slightly damp hair and he parted his lips slightly, measuring Irene's response.

Her heartbeat accelerated and her face flushed. She rose from her knees and straddled Sherlock's lap, stroking his shoulders as her lips pressed against his.

Sherlock's long fingers pulled her hair slightly and she released a small moan.

'Interesting,' Sherlock noted in his mind. He closed his eyes and pressed his tongue against Irene's lips, causing her to exhale heavily.

Her hands slipped down his chest, undoing the buttons along the way.

Sherlock thought about stopping her, but thought better of it and continued the strange situation, trying desperately to keep control of his mind and body.

Irene's fingers were warm against his cold skin as they raked down his chest, and he bit back the moan that tried to escape his lips.

His hands travelled down to Irene's lower back and he pulled her closer to him, moving his kisses to her jaw.

Her fingers went up to tangle in his dark, curly hair as his lips explored her jaw hungrily.

Sherlock scrunched his eyes shut, his thoughts practically exploding in his mind. He had to get it together. This was just an experiment.

He wouldn't allow himself to lose control of the situation. Irene was breathing heavily as he kissed her, her eyes closed and her skin flushed.

She pulled away from Sherlock and leaned down, planting a single kiss on his pale chest.

Sherlock's eyes flashed open and he grabbed Irene's shoulders, flipping them around so that he could have a better vantage point.

Irene pulled his shirt off as he kissed hungrily at her neck, biting the skin with every kiss.

Irene's body was practically boiling. She'd never allowed herself to be in this kind of position with a man.

She didn't know if she liked having no control, but all she could think about was the man in front of her. Suddenly, Moriarty's cute little nickname popped in to her head.

'The Virgin?' She thought. 'Definitely not.' She moaned as Sherlock roughly kissed her neck. She reached down to his zipper and began to pull it down.

She had barely gotten halfway before Sherlock abruptly pulled back and smoothed his hair.

His face turned into a complete mask of calm and he picked his shirt up from the floor and shook it before pulling it on and doing up the buttons.

Irene frowned in confusion at Sherlock as he brushed off his clothes. She opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly there was a shout from the bottom of the stairs.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson's voice drifted from the lower floor.

Irene stood and looked Sherlock in his icy eyes.

.

.

.

"Too late," She said ruefully.


End file.
